Not Telling You
by SewingSlytherin
Summary: Requested by reddemonkiss. A story where Viktor and Hermione are secretly dating. Started before Hogwarts.
1. Chapter 1

The first time that they met was in Greece. She was visiting her grandparents. He was at a special training camp. They might not have ever crossed paths, except that she walked into him.

"Sorry," Hermione spluttered in English. She had momentarily forgotten that Greek was the better choice for talking to people on the street.

"Is alright," he responded. "Vas not looking vhere I vas going."

Hermione sagged with relief. "You speak English. I was worried that I was going to have to explain myself. And my Greek isn't that great yet. For all that my grandparents are Greek, it doesn't mean that I get a chance to use the language frequently."

The boy couldn't understand half of what she was saying. She was talking much faster than he had expected, and it was obvious that English was her native tounge.

"I am sorry. I must be going," he said before walking off.

Hermione stared at him as he walked away. She might have only been ten, but she had a feeling that they were going to run into each other again.

* * *

It turned out that she ran into him again much sooner than she expected. It was hardly a week after she had first bumped into him when she saw him on the street. Her mother was window shopping, and talking with her father.

She slipped away, being sure to keep in sight of them. It wouldn't do for her to be snatched when she was close enough for them to hear her if she shouted.

" _Hi. I'm Hermione,"_ she said.

"I do not understand," the boy said. "Is that Greek?"

"So you speak English but not Greek. And you're in Greece?" Hermione said. She crossed her arms over her chest. "What part of that makes sense?"

He shrugged. "Am here for sports training. Best program is here, and coach speaks enough Russian I can understand."

"Then you're Russian," she said.

"Bulgarian," he corrected. "My name is Viktor Krum."

"Hermione. Hermione Granger." She extended a hand to him, and he gave it a hesitant shake.

"Vould it be alright for me to call you something else. Your name is hard to say."

She shrugged. "I know. My mum calls me Mya when she doesn't feel like saying it. I guess you could use that."

"Mya. I vill write to you soon. But I haff practice now," Viktor said before leaving.

Hermione watched Viktor leave. It was strange. He was at least three years older than her, and he didn't even ask for her address. She frowned, thinking he was strange and forgot about him until his first letter arrived two weeks later.

* * *

A/N: So I have this head canon that Hermione's Greek. It makes sense for her hair, and her name. The name Hermione is Greek. It's the name of the daughter of Helen of Troy. I know it's used in Shakespeare, but a lot of his plays were set in Greece.


	2. Chapter 2

The summer that Hermione was eleven, they spent the first three weeks of the holidays in France. It was a break with tradition, and she knew that her parents were attempting to keep her to themselves for just a little longer. Her Hogwarts letter had arrived the previous September. Adjusting hadn't been the most natural thing in the world.

Quite a number of things had made sense the moment it arrived. Why she could do things that her parents couldn't. And then there were all sorts of other questions it opened up. The first one she had was why wizarding folks used owls to send mail. It might have been faster than having people postal workers, but surely there was some spell that could do the job better.

Viktor Krum, the same strange boy who she had bumped into while in Greece, had become her brain to pick. He was a wizard and attended Durmstrang Institute of something or other. It was a long name and they just referred to it as Durmstrang most of the time.

She knew that the experiences he had weren't universal. For one, Hogwarts wasn't likely to teach Nordic spells. And she was sure that wizarding cultures and customs varied from country to country, much the same way that muggle ones did.

She was glad to have someone she could ask all of her questions. Hermione was inquisitive by nature. Having a whole new world opened up to her was like a dream come true. It was also her worst nightmare. She knew nothing, and that terrified her.

She knew nothing. Wizards used owls to deliver their mail. There was something called floo powder that was supposedly a form of transportation. There seemed to be a spell or potion for everything imaginable. And children who grew up in magical households took it all for granted.

And people actually flew on brooms. There was a sport, something like quid-itch, that was as big in the magical world as football was to the muggle world. Perhaps more so. Having never gone to a match, or followed the sport at all, Hermione had no clue.

Viktor couldn't answer that question any better than she could. He didn't know much about football, even if he did know about quidditch. And he didn't have anyone who wanted to explain it to him.

When the Grangers got to Greece, Hermione felt herself relax. She was there to rest and spend time with her grandparents. She didn't have anything she needed to worry about then. And Greece was more comfortable than France, if only because Hermione was almost fluent in Greek while her French still needed some work.

After their first week in Greece, Hermione received a letter. It had appeared through seemingly "normal" means. It even had the address of where she was staying. She hadn't told anyone that. It seemed rude to tell people of her grandparents' address.

She could tell it was from Viktor. She recognized his stilted clumsy letters. He was still unused to writing in the roman alphabet. But, between the two of them, English was the one common language they could use.

Viktor was fluent in Bulgarian, Russian, Norwegian, and was at least conversational in English. He was working on that. Hermione spoke English and Greek, and was learning French. Her French wasn't as good as Viktor's English, but she had had less instances to practice. She tried not to hold it against herself, but found that difficult.

She read over the letter. Apparently Viktor had been accepted into the same quidditch training program he had been in the previous year. It was more intense, because he had advanced quite a bit in that time. Hermione got the sense that he was attempting to be humble. It didn't work particularly well since he had to explain everything in great detail for her to understand.

"Who's writing to you here?" her mother asked.

"Viktor," Hermione said without glancing up.

"The Bulgarian broom sport player?"

"That would be the one." Hermione didn't know many Viktors. Which was probably for the best. Things would get even more confusing if she did.

In her primary school class there were three boys named James and two named Eric. And that was just her class. Not to mention the rest of the school.

"How's he doing?" Mrs. Granger asked. "Still talking about that Nimbly three thousand or something?"

Hermione scanned the letter for any mention of what her mother was talking about. There was a brief mention, just a sentence or two, of a nimbus two thousand. It was supposed to be the best broom on the market that year.

"I suppose it's a bit like Dad and football," she mused.

Mr. Granger was an avid fan of football. His wife and daughter didn't understand why he liked it. To them it was just a group of men running after a ball and not accomplishing much. All things considered, they found it incredibly boring. But Mr. Granger liked it, so they put up with it.

Mrs. Granger nodded. She knew that her husband couldn't keep quiet when it came to football. Each time he tried, he failed miserably. New players. New equipment. New training facilities. If it involved football, it would find its way into conversation.

"What's like me and football?" Mr. Granger asked walking into the kitchen.

"Hermione's Bulgarian sport playing friend about brooms," Mrs. Granger answered.

"Ah, what was his name. Vincent?"

"Viktor," Hermione said. She was still focused on reading the slightly long letter. "He's in town. There's some quidditch training camp he's going to."

"He comes to Greece just to train for his sport." Mr. Granger let out a low whistle. "He's certainly dedicated. I'll give him that."

Hermione had to agree. Part of the program involved a multi-day-long international flight. It was supposed to improve stamina. Hermione was mostly just frightened out of her mind at the thought. She wasn't comfortable flying on a plane, let alone on a twig.

"We should have him over for dinner sometime," Mrs. Granger said.

"I'll write and ask."


	3. Chapter 3

Viktor and Hermione exchanged a flurry of letters before agreeing to meet in the park later that week before heading to lunch with their parents. Hermione could feel her nerves growing the minute she read that letter. She worried what her parents would think of Viktor, and what his would think of her.

He had to be at least two years older than her. She got the impression it was closer to three, possibly even four, years between them. And she knew that her mother at least desperately wanted her to make friends her own age. But he did have answers for most of the questions she had.

The day that they were scheduled to meet, Hermione was a ball of nerves. Half of her wanted to curl up into a ball on the floor and not move an inch. The other half of her wanted to bounce around the house until it was time to leave. She was fighting both to move and to stay still.

She wound up doing neither of the actions she so desperately wanted to. She helped cook breakfast and clean it up. She rationalized that if her brain was busy she shouldn't be as anxious. She couldn't tell if she was more nervous or excited. She simply decided that anxious was the best word.

Helena watched as Hermione cleaned, not just the kitchen but the whole house, fastidiously. She knew that Hermione wasn't one to leave a mess. But, Hermione wasn't usually as picky as she was being right then. She had straightened one shelf half a dozen times.

"Everything alright?" Helena asked.

Hermione nearly jumped out of her skin. She hadn't been paying much attention to her surroundings. Her mother had startled her, even though it was unlikely that she had been sneaking around.

"I'm fine," Hermione attempted to reassure her mother.

Helena looked her daughter over dubiously. She knew that Hermione was feeling at least a little nervous. It had been over a year since she had last seen Viktor. Something might have changed in that time.

Helena doubted anything drastic had happened. Hermione and Viktor had written each other consistently over the course of the year. Surely something would have clued them in if Viktor didn't want to be friends with Hermione anymore.

Helena shook that thought from her mind. He wouldn't have wanted to meet them if that were the case. And he certainly wouldn't have invited his parents. Helena smiled. She was looking forward to meeting Hermione's wizarding pen pal.

"When are we leaving again?" Hermione asked. She knew the answer already. How could she not? But she needed to hear it again.

"In about half an hour," Helena said. "Plenty of time for you to freak out over the state of your grandmother's shelves."

Hermione groaned. She hadn't actually been retting over the shelves and whatever state they might be in. She was just fidgeting. She felt as if she was going to explode.

Helena smiled to herself. Hermione looked fit to be tied. Her entire face was screwed up in what looked to be an attempt to calm herself down.

"I suppose we could leave a few minutes early," she said.

Hermione perked up at that suggestion. She knew that she was likely to run all the way to the park. With the high level of her emotions it wasn't entirely impossible for strange things to happen.

When it came time for them to leave, which wound up being five minutes before they had planned, Mr. Granger kept a firm grip on Hermione's arm. Without it there was no doubt that she would have gone racing through the streets.

They reached the park before they were supposed to be there, but Viktor was sitting on a bench, talking with two people who looked to be his parents.

"Viktor?" Hermione called.

"Mya!" Viktor yelled back, happy to see her. "I haff to varn you, my parents English is vorse than mine."

" _But we speak Greek much better than he does,"_ Mr. Krum said in stilted but understandable Greek.

" _Not that it was hard to do,"_ Mrs. Krum added.

"Mother," Viktor hissed. "You are making me look bad."

Mrs. Krum chattered at her son in what Hermione presumed to be Bulgarian. Hermione wished she could speak it, but suddenly knew how Viktor felt about Greek. It must be so hard to learn a language without having anyone to teach you and practice with you.

Lunch was a fairly loud and chaotic affair. Their parents were talking in Greek while Hermione and Viktor were speaking English. Hermione sometimes had to bounce between the conversations, which meant that she was switching words in her languages more frequently than usual.

"Is alright Mya," Viktor attempted to reassure her after she forgot the English word for cup. "Friends do this all the time at Durmstrang. Ve sometimes speak words in Swedish because classes are taught in it. But ve do not know all the vords."

It made Hermione feel better to hear that. She still slipped up a few times, but she wasn't super embarrassed by it. And when lunch was over, though they had plans to meet up again later the next week, Hermione was sad to go.


	4. Chapter 4

Sometime in the middle of September, Hermione sat down in the common room to write a letter. She'd written once a week to her parents, informing them of all the goings on of the school. She had been sorted into Gryffindor. She still wasn't sure what the point of the moving stairs was. And all the other little trivial things.

She pulled out quill, ink, and parchment. It was still strange to use them, but it was growing more comfortable the longer she used them. And she was almost certain that her pen pal used a quill. She dipped her quill in the ink and started her letter.

 **Dear Viktor,**

 **Things are certainly different her at Hogwarts than I anticipated. At least the robes are comfortable. I was worried about that, as you know. And I know that I have a tendency to worry over the silliest things. Like robes, that you assured me were comfortable.**

 **I know it hasn't been long, and that I should probably give it more time, but I don't have many friends yet. There's this boy named Neville. He keeps losing thins and forgetting stuff. But he's one of the few people who have been nice to me.**

 **I was sorted into Gryffindor, just like I wanted to be. But the girls in my house don't seem to like me that much. I don't know why. I'm doing my best not to let it get to me. But I think that the only reason some of them put up with me at all is the fact that I'm on top of my homework. Not that it's hard. It's only been two weeks since classes started.**

 **I do want to thank you for mentioning how important it is that I stay on top of my work. I would have anyways, but it is always nice to have someone give you advice that you can actually follow. And at least this way, I'm not going to get swamped when more things are assigned.**

"What are you doing?" a certain red head practically shouted across the common room.

"Writing," Hermione said without so much as a glance up.

"I can see that." Ron crossed the room. "I didn't think that the potions essay was due until next week."

Hermione folded up her letter, not wanting to share. "It is due next week, Ronald. And I'm already done with it."

There was something callous about Ron Weasley that made it difficult for Hermione to like him. She was trying. He had a few friends, so there must have been some redeeming qualities. But it was hard to like someone who seemed to have it out for you.

"What did you do that for?" Ron asked. "You have the rest of the week to finish it."

"In case it has escaped your notice, Ronald," Hermione tried to keep from snapping, "today is Thursday. The essay is due Tuesday. And Flitwick gave us an essay for next Thursday."

There was a collective sigh around the common room as parchment and quills were pulled out. It appeared that Ron wasn't the only one who had put off his homework.

"So, you're doing the charms essay then?" Ron prodded.

"Not that it's any of your business Weasley," Hermione nearly lost control of her temper, "but I'm writing a letter."

Harry pulled Ron away from Hermione before she could kill him. Ron might not have understood just how close Hermione was to snapping and hurting him. Harry did. And he wasn't thrilled with the prospect of Ron getting himself killed.

Hermione grabbed her letter and marched up to her dorm. Luckily for her, and possibly everyone else, she didn't run into anyone. She settled onto her bed, trying to let go of the anger that was overtaking her.

She took a deep breath and unfolded her letter. What she wanted, what she needed, was a friend. She just wished that Viktor lived closer.

* * *

A/N: So the biggest issue between Ron and Hermione is communication. Ron's grown up surrounded by siblings. They were always around, and he doesn't know how to give someone space. And Hermione, being an only child with two busy parents, doesn't quite get the fact that Ron is trying to take an interest in her life. She thinks he's being nosy and pushy. Which he is.


	5. Chapter 5

**Dear Viktor,**

Hermione paused, chewing on her quill. What she was about to tell him was tricky. She hadn't exactly been hurt. But that fact would matter so much to certain people.

 **Last night something happened. I'm fine. I almost wasn't, and I'm still unsure how to feel about that. But I promise I'm fine.**

 **Last night a troll got in the castle. No one knows how. No one knows why. No one even knows what on earth a mountain troll would be doing here. Scotland isn't exactly the native habitat for mountain trolls.**

 **Now please don't get mad at me for this next part. I was in the bathroom crying during dinner last night. Ron said that I was a nightmare and that it was no wonder that I don't have friends. I took it pretty hard.**

 **Everyone who was at the feast last night was herded off to their common rooms. Everyone except for Harry and Ron. They snuck away to warn me about the troll roaming the castle. That was a very lucky thing for me.**

 **The troll got to me seconds before Harry and Ron did. And it attacked me. I panicked. If they hadn't shown up when they did, I might very well be dead.**

 **I couldn't tell you exactly what happened. It was all over so quickly. And the adrenaline and exhaustion that followed was most certainly overwhelming.**

Hermione put her quill down and rubbed her temples. She didn't know how to explain what had resulted. How she was now friends with Harry and Ron. It was a strange enough concept on its own.

She knew that Viktor wouldn't appreciate her being friends with Ron, as he was the one who had put her in the position to be attacked in the first place. And Hermione wasn't sure that she and Ron would ever be close friends. But after a couple of months of wishing for friends, it was nice to have some.

Hermione pulled her hair up into a knot. She still needed to figure out a way to tell her parents what had happened. And she was sure that they would have a cow. But she still needed to tell them.

"Can you spare a moment from homework and play exploding snap with us?" Harry asked. He had such a hopeful look on his face that Hermione couldn't say no.

Hermione rolled up her letter and shoved it in her bag before sitting down to play with them. It was good to have friends.


	6. Chapter 6

Viktor read over the letter he had received. He was unsure if he should laugh, or be angry. Neither would make a huge difference since even by owl, it took about a week for letters to get between Hogwarts and Durmstrang. Much faster than muggle options, but not incredibly quickly.

Hermione had survived an attack by a mountain troll. Even if it was because of extra help, it was still impressive. But Viktor was mostly upset that she had been put in a position to test herself before she should have been.

He was also frustrated with a certain Hogwarts student by the name of Ronald Weasley. In his mind, Hermione should not be friends with him. He had little thought to anyone's feelings but his own. That was not a good recipe for friendship.

He couldn't be upset with Hermione. He knew how desperately she wanted friends. He also knew that no matter how much he wished that he could be her closest friend, the distance was going to make that at least a little tricky.

He sighed. Hermione Granger was going to give him quite the headache over the years.

 **Dear Hermione,**

 **I'm glad that you are safe. I think that Hogwarts might not be a safe place. Mountain trolls, or trolls of any variety, aren't supposed to be able to get onto the grounds of any magical schools, let alone into the building.**

 **Please be careful. I fear that something is going on. I don't know why. I just have a bad feeling about it.**

 **You would be right that I'm not happy that you and Ron are now friends. You should have friends who make you feel good about yourself. You are a wonderful person. Even if you don't like quidditch.**

"Hey Viktor, put the English practice down and come play with us," Sergi called.

Viktor quickly spelled his letter so that only he could read it. He didn't need his friends teasing him over a girl who was three years younger than him. She wasn't even someone he was interested in anyways.

However, that wouldn't stop his friends from teasing him. He hadn't shown interest in any of the girls at Durmstrang. If they discovered that he was writing to a girl, twelve years old or not, it would only add fuel to that particular fire.

* * *

Hermione was writing in her journal in the common room. She wasn't worried about anyone reading it. She doubted that anyone in her house could read Greek, even if they did recognize the letters.

An owl appeared in one of the windows, tapping gently before flying off. Since most mail was delivered around breakfast and all the owls, student or otherwise, were kept in the owlery it was a strange sight.

Hermione gathered up her journal and pen and tucked them into her bag. She might not have been worried about her housemates reading over her shoulder, but didn't want to just leave her journal lying around. Someone probably knew a translation charm.

"Where are you going?" Ron asked.

"The owlery," she said. "I've got a letter to mail."

She figured it was as good a time as any to send an owl to her parents with the letter to mail to her grandparents. She'd been meaning to send it for a while, but had fussed over the wording for weeks.

"Do you want us to come with you?"

"Ron, I know where the owlery is," she said. "I'll be fine."

Ron had become increasingly paranoid about letting her walk around the castle by herself. She knew that she'd been attacked by a troll, but she still needed time to be alone. And Ron didn't understand that.

She tried to shake off the bad mood that his suggestion had put her in. As if she wasn't capable of being alone. She was still muttering angrily to herself when she reached the owlery. Not the best idea.

Several owls, having heard similar mutterings while people mailed bills and letters to estranged relatives, flocked over to her. She was so shocked that she stopped in her tracks. The annoyance she had felt faded away.

The owl that had tapped on the window rustled his feathers and hooted softly before gliding over to Hermione. She took the letter from his leg and gave him a treat from her pocket. No one entered the owlery without a treat. At least not more than once.

Hermione tied her letter to the leg of a different owl.

"Don't worry," she said while petting the first bird. "I'll have something for you soon. But if you're from who I think, he'll want a response without the two day detour to my parent's house."


	7. Chapter 7

History of magic was a class where most of the students fell asleep. Even Hermione, who was arguably one of the most diligent students in her year, found it difficult to pay attention at times. Mostly due to the fact that Professor Binns droned on and on in the most monotone voice ever.

Hermione normally would have been taking notes. Even in a subject where just about everyone studied the material exclusively outside of class, she prided herself on having detailed notes of the entire lecture. No matter how boring Binns was.

Unfortunately for everyone, they were having the same lecture that they had listened to the previous day. Repeat lessons were enough to send even some of the more studious Ravenclaws to sleep. Hermione was bored out of her skull and not even notes could keep her mind from wandering.

She pulled out a fresh sheet of parchment. Harry and Ron had both nodded off towards the beginning of the lesson and were sound asleep. They shouldn't look at her note. Which was good because it would have to be in English.

Hermione had managed to learn how to say a few phrases in Bulgarian. But she hadn't yet mastered the Cyrillic alphabet. Although, that might make it easier for Viktor's friends to read over his shoulder. She should ask him about that.

 **Dear Viktor,**

 **I have to admit that having Harry as our house seeker does horrible things to my nerves. I guess that I'm somewhat glad you don't go here. There's no doubt that you'd be a seeker and I doubt my nerves could handle that.**

 **Although, I doubt you have a target painted on your back the way that Harry does. Someone jinxed his broom in the middle of the game. I think I know who, but don't want to say for a number of reasons. But I did take care of it. And Harry managed to catch the snitch.**

 **He says that's the most important thing. I get the feeling the two of you would get on like a house on fire. Needless to say, I won't be introducing you for some time.**

Hermione paused. She didn't know if she should tell him about the three-headed dog in the third floor corridor. They hadn't told anyone, but Viktor might be able to come up with some useful information.

At the very least he wouldn't mistakenly call it a Cerberus. That was the name of Hade's dog, which in some mythology had three heads and sometimes many more. It was a bit of a sore subject for Hermione who took her heritage seriously.

Thankfully for her, Harry and Ron lacked either the pretention or the intelligence to call it anything other than a three-headed dog. She wasn't sure she could have taken the strain. If Ron had tried, she was almost sure she would have punched him.

She probably could have controlled the impulse to punch Harry. He had grown up with very British muggles. They wouldn't have taught him Greek mythology at all. Especially since they seemed scare of any magic influence. He could at least claim ignorance.

Ron had grown up in a wizarding household. He had access to knowledge that Harry didn't. The fact that he didn't utilize that to its full potential irked Hermione to no end.

She supposed that growing up surrounded by magic might have made it too commonplace for him. She wouldn't have even thought such a thing possible before she met Ron. Even the Slytherins, most of who had grown up in prestigious and mysterious families, had a healthy respect for magic.

Hermione groaned and folded up her letter. She would think about it some more before deciding whether or not to tell Viktor about the dog.


	8. Chapter 8

By the time that Christmas rolled around, Hermione was ready for a break. She liked being friends with Harry and Ron well enough, but making sure that they did their homework was a full-time job. And she was anxious to see her parents again.

She packed with exuberance, eager to be home. It would be nice to be able to take a break from studying. In spite of her reputation at school as the know-it-all, Hermione wasn't as fastidious at studying while at home.

She liked to read and learn things. She liked to know things. It bothered her immensely when there was something that she didn't know. But, when term exams were over, she liked to relax and have fun just as much as anyone else her age.

There was little doubt in her mind that she would retain her reputation. She would always be the annoying know-it-all muggleborn. And oddly enough, she was okay with that. She had a couple of friends who she was sure would fail if it weren't for her and her insistence that they do their homework.

When she had finished packing she headed down to the great hall. She was going to remind Harry that he'd agreed to look in the restricted section for information on Nicholas Flamel. But, she walked in to find Harry and Ron playing chess.

"Queen to D5," Ron said.

The stone queen glided across the face of the chessboard to the spot Ron had called. She reached the square where Harry's bishop was. The queen stood, and whacked her chair into the bishop smashing him to pieces.

"That's barbaric," Hermione exclaimed.

"That's wizard's chess," Ron said. He looked Hermione over. "I see you've packed."

"I see you haven't," Hermione said.

"There's been a change of plans. My parents are going to Romania to visit my brother Charlie," Ron said. "He's studying dragons over there you know."

For once Hermione was glad that she was an only child. She would hate it if she wound up being left behind while her parents visited siblings of hers. She quickly squelched that feeling. It wouldn't do her, or anyone else, any good.

"Well then, you can help Harry," she said. "He's going to look for Nicholas Flamel in the library."

"Why would you make us do that?" Ron moaned. "We've looked at least a hundred times already."

"Not in the restricted section."

"I don't have even the slightest clue how to get in," Harry said.

"I'm sure you'll figure something out," Hermione said. "Have a happy Christmas."

"Happy Christmas," the boys chorused.

The train ride home was more relaxing than Hermione had anticipated. She even managed to have a whole compartment all to herself. That made what she was going to do even easier.

She pulled out quill and parchment from her bag. She had tasked Harry and Ron with looking for Flamel, but she still had resources that she could use. Not to mention the fact that she fully expected them to forget about it until the day before break was over.

 **Dear Viktor,**

 **This may come off a tad weird, but one of my professors mentioned Nicholas Flamel offhand. Didn't say much about him. Just mentioned that he and Dumbledore had worked together at one point.**

 **Naturally, I wanted to find out more about him. I've looked for any mention of him in the library, but haven't been able to find anything. I have to confess that I'm not really sure where to look.**

 **On a happier note, what are your plans for the holidays? I assume that you're going home since that was the plan last year. What does Sofia look like in the winter? I forgot to ask that last year.**

 **My family is going to be staying at our home in London this year. We alternate where we spend the holidays. It's not a strict rotation. Last year we spent the Christmas holidays in Rome. Which I seem to recall telling you all about.**

 **Do you guys ever travel over the holidays? I know you have quidditch camp all through the summer, but it's not the same.**

 **Hermione**

* * *

Viktor smiled as he read her letter. If only she knew his plans.

* * *

A/N: I'm so sorry. I've been writing. It just hasn't exactly been fanfiction. And I apologize for letting this get shoved to the back burner.


	9. Chapter 9

Christmas morning came sooner than Hermione had hoped for. She had been enjoying spending time with her parents. She liked that she could speak and not have half a dozen people groan. And she especially loved the sweets her mother let her sneak.

Both of Hermione's parents were dentists. It was a great job, but they had developed strong opinions on snacks over the years. But Christmas was one of the few times that Hermione could get away with eating things that she knew weren't the best for her teeth.

And she liked that her parents were intrigued enough to ask her to explain things. It was frustrating that no one at school, even the other muggleborns, were as interested in magic as Hermione was. But she wasn't in charge of other people.

She woke bright and early that morning, much the same way she did each and every morning. It wouldn't do to get out of the habit. She stretched and headed down to the kitchen for breakfast. As she expected, her parents were eating breakfast and talking about something.

She listened with half an ear. She didn't really care about teeth the same way they did. But the familiar lilt of Greek words sounded comforting, no matter the subject matter.

" _Breakfast first, I'm guessing,"_ she said in Greek.

" _You'd be right,"_ her mother said.

Hermione sat down at the table, and dished up food onto her plate. Scrambled eggs with cheese were one of her favourites. She savoured each bite of her food, but only got halfway through her plate before she heard a knock on the door.

" _Are we expecting company?"_ she asked

Her parents shared a look. Hermione wasn't sure if it was guilt or something else. Whatever it was, it looked suspicious.

"Why don't you answer the door, dear?" her father said to her mother. He had switched to English. Company it was.

" _Why didn't you tell me before now?"_ Hermione cried. She dashed up the stairs. She didn't want to be seen by anyone in her pajamas.

It was likely a strange habit. After all, she shared a dormitory with five other girls. They had all seen her pajamas. But Hermione didn't wander around the common room in anything less than full dress, unlike practically everyone else. She didn't like the feeling.

Once she had put on jeans and a jumper, she pulled her hair into a knot at the base of her head. That way it was out of her face. For all the trouble her hair gave her, she still hated having it in her face. She had just secured it and was on her way down the stairs when she saw the figure in the doorway.

"Viktor!" She launched herself at him, flinging her arms around him in the biggest hug she could manage. "How did you get here?"

"Arranged international portkey. Took lots of planning," he said simply.

" _Why didn't you tell me he was coming?"_ Hermione bemoaned to her parents.

" _He asked us not to,"_ her father said. _"And it turned out to be the most surprising present anyone could think of for you."_

" _Besides,"_ her mother added, _"the look on your face was one of pure joy."_

" _Fine,"_ she grumbled. Hermione wished that someone had told her to get dressed, but she couldn't hide her happiness. She figured that it would be one of her favourite Christmases ever.

"Vhy don't ve open presents," Viktor suggested.

"There's more?" Hermione asked. Her jaw dropped. "My best friend in the entire world comes to visit, and there's more?"

"You don't think that we'd let you go to boarding school and not want to come home?" her mother teased her. "We couldn't risk you leaving us."

"I don't think I'll be able to go back to school at this rate," Hermione mumbled.

"Is good you live in England," Viktor said. "Hogvarts is good school. And close. You vill be able to visit family often. Even if I vant you to come to Durmstrang."

Hermione smiled. She knew that Viktor liked spending time with her. But she also knew that if his quidditch friends found out that his best friend was a first year, he would never hear the end of it. Same if her friends, especially Ron, ever found out that she was friends with Viktor Krum.

Ron knew everything about quidditch. And Harry was picking it up fast. Of course, Harry had to since he was the Gryffindor seeker. And Hermione knew way more than she was letting on. She was supposed to be the bookworm. And she did prefer to watch quidditch as opposed to playing it.

But everyone at Hogwarts knew that Viktor Krum was being scouted to be the youngest professional player in decades. It was all some of the more obsessed kids talked about. Although, most preferred teams that were closer to home. Ron's favourite team being the Chuddley Cannons. Who even Hermione knew to be horrible.

"You know my parents won't let me do that," she said.

Her parents shared a look. They had moved to England before Hermione was born, and had little intention of leaving anytime soon. But, that didn't mean that they were against the idea of Hermione leaving the country if she wanted to.

Part of the reason that they were so insistent on taking her to Greece every summer wasn't that they felt she needed to visit her grandparents. That was a part of it. But the larger part was that they knew that Hermione needed to experience as much of the world as she could. It made a person more compassionate.

With her intelligence, Hermione could do so much. And her parents knew that no matter how much a person could do, doing good was always the best choice. They tried their best, but they had learnt that their greatest legacy would be their daughter.

If she figured that she could learn how to be a better person at Durmstrang, they would have sent her there in a heartbeat. But she wanted to go to Hogwarts. And even though Viktor grumbled a little in his good-natured way, he didn't fight her on that.

The Grangers wondered what Viktor had said to Hermione. He had told her so many things about the schools. And Hermione had trusted his advice almost implicitly. If he had warned her about Durmstrang, she would avoid it.

"So, you got all the way to England," Hermione said. "Why?"

Viktor shrugged as nonchalantly as he could. "Vanted to see you. Seemed like a good reason."

Hermione couldn't hide the blush that stained her cheeks, or the grin that seemed to be causing it. "You should have told me. I wouldn't have worried as much over not getting a letter from you."

Viktor reached into one of his pockets and took out a roll of parchment. "Haff letter here."

Hermione took it from him. "I'll read that later. You can talk to me now."

She set the parchment on one of the end tables next to the sofa and took a seat. She motioned for Viktor to also take a seat. He fiddled awkwardly with his jacket, pulling out a package before sitting.

"For you," he said.

Hermione didn't take it. "You already came all this way. I can't take that. It's too much."

"Hermione," her mother said. "We have a gift for Viktor. You can take it."

"I have a gift for Viktor," Hermione said. "That doesn't mean I can take this. I know that gifts aren't supposed to be an equal exchange. But I can't."

"I vant you to haff it," Viktor said. "Besides, it has all answers you asked for in your letter."

Hermione reluctantly took the package. She liked knowledge more than anything. And Viktor was offering it freely. She was certain that the gift was a book. But she still felt indebted to him.

She put it down on the coffee table and ran up to her room. She grabbed the package she had wrapped. She had intended to send it, with a very long apologetic letter for getting it to Viktor later than she intended. But he hadn't quite sent her owl back yet.

At least now she could give it to him on time. And in person. That was probably the best part of the holiday.

She bounded back down the stairs, taking them two at a time. She handed the smoothly wrapped box to Viktor. She watched nervously as he removed the wrapping paper.

Inside the box lay one of the oldest copies of all the possible fouls in quidditch. After one particularly gruesome game in centuries past, it was forbidden to write them all down. Hermione had found it in a secondhand bookshop while in Diagon Alley and had immediately though of Viktor. And so, she had kept if for Christmas.

"This is…" Viktor trailed off. "Should not exist," he whispered.

The next thing Hermione knew, she was in a bone crushing hug. She knew then that she had gotten Viktor a present he liked. She had worried about that.

The rest of the presents were exchanged and Viktor and Hermione were conversing about the book he had given her. Wrapping paper was strewn about the living room. It was a colourful sight. And it was one of the best Christmas memories either Hermione or Viktor had.

They talked though the rest of the day and dozed off on the sofa. Mr. and Mrs. Granger draped blankets over them, smiling knowingly.

* * *

A/N: So I think this is the longest chapter in the story so far. Sorry if I got a little rambly. I think I did. Hope you guys like this.


	10. Chapter 10

The train ride back to Hogwarts was both excruciating and exciting for Hermione. It was also one of the most peaceful moments she had had since Halloween. She was sure that Harry didn't do it on purpose, but he was a magnet for trouble.

She settled into her compartment, she had managed to snag one that was empty, and opened the book Viktor had given her for Christmas. It was about Beauxbatons, one of the schools she had heard about but not really studied.

It didn't hold as much interest for her as either Hogwarts or Durmstrang did. For fairly obvious reasons. Hogwarts was the school she was going to go to. And Durmstrang was where Viktor went. But Beauxbatons held no connection to her.

Until she started reading. It was so strange. She hadn't thought that France would be so advanced. But she supposed that was both the English and Greek background she had talking. Neither one was particularly fond of the arrogant way the French held themselves. Even if England and France weren't as different as they liked to think.

She was so engrossed in her book that she didn't notice time passing. It wasn't until she ran across a familiar name, Nicholas Flamel, that she looked up to find the sky darkening.

She packed the book into her trunk. They were nearing the castle anyways and she needed to think. Nicholas Flamel was much older than she had originally anticipated. She had so many questions. Part of her wanted to march right up to Dumbledore and demand that he give her answers.

The larger, more sensible, part of her argued that he wouldn't answer to a first year. The headmaster had so much more experience and knowledge than Hermione did. Mostly due to his age. There was little reason for him to explain himself to Hermione.

Even so, Hermione hoped that one day she could get Dumbledore to tell her stories about Flamel. The alchemist had been alive for over six hundred years. Ideally it would be him that Hermione could talk to. But she knew that she didn't live in a perfect world.

It was evident in all too many aspects. Harry had his parents killed. From what little Hermione had learned, she was fearful of what the future might hold. Everyone was optimistic, but ideologies were hard to change.

She walked up to the castle, bumping into Ron and Harry. They were on their way to the great hall as well.

"How was your Christmas?" she asked.

Hermione almost had to laugh at the way the boys flinched when they heard her voice. She had assumed that they would forget to look up Flamel. It was something she had been anticipating. And she hadn't even asked about that.

Still, she had to stifle a laugh. It was so absurd to her just how the sound of her voice could inspire fear. Maybe she might be able to get the boys to do their homework. She doubted it, but it was a nice thought.

"Hey Hermione," Harry said sheepishly. "We didn't see you there."

Hermione smiled. "I know. I was just on my way to the great hall. I'm famished."

"Same here," Ron said.

"You're always hungry," Harry said.

"I don't know why you aren't," Ron said. "You're far skinnier than anyone should be. And you should be growing."

Harry shrugged. "Guess with as much as Dudley eats I got used to small meals."

Hermione's heart broke. There was yet another sign that the world was imperfect. She didn't understand how Harry could be so mistreated by his own family. It was frustrating. But as a twelve-year-old, she couldn't do anything about it.

She frowned, thinking over a plan. Maybe there wasn't much that she could do. She didn't have the best connections. But she was sure she could find someone who did.

"Just so you know," Harry said, "I did try to look where you asked. But the book screamed at me."


	11. Chapter 11

Harry, Ron, and Hermione headed down the path to Hagrid's hut. With Hermione's research, that had mostly involved the book that Viktor had gotten her for Christmas, they had a good idea of what was hidden underneath the three-headed dog. Not that Hermione had any inclination to share where the book had come from.

Ron had bugged her about it incessantly. He knew that just about no muggle family would have known that other wizarding schools existed. Even though Hermione had told him that she'd gotten a letter from Beauxbatons herself. She thought that he had no reason to know.

But, she would bet money she didn't have that it was the philosopher's stone hidden under the trapdoor in the third-floor corridor. She would bet Harry's whole Gringotts account and not feel a touch of remorse at it. She was certain of it.

And since Hagrid was the one who owned Fluffy, which was the dog's name, he might know. But Hermione wasn't counting on him giving up information easily. Far too easy, since he shouldn't be spilling any sort of secrets to eleven-year-old students. But it wasn't going to be as simple as asking a question. They'd have to get him flustered.

They entered Hagrid's hut, and almost recoiled from the heat. Harry, Hermione, and Ron all shed their outer robes and scarves as quickly as possible.

"Hagrid, it's boiling in here," Hermione said.

"Just keeping it a bit warmer in here," Hagrid said. It was as if he was trying to brush it off.

"Just a bit warmer?" Ron asked. "It feels like you've captured the sun in here."

"More like a sauna," Harry muttered.

"Whatever it is, it can't be good for you," Hermione said. "Why don't we open a window? Let a breeze in?"

She moved to the window, reaching for the latch. It was boiling. Even compared to Gryffindor tower, which was admittedly more drafty than she thought it should be for a magic castle, where a fire was always going.. It was stifling.

Hagrid moved surprisingly quickly for his size. He stepped between Hermione and the window in less time than it took her to reach even close to it..

"Let's not do that," Hagrid said.

"Hagrid," Ron said. "Are you feeling okay? Your face is red."

"And you're sweating," Harry added.

Hermione looked at the pot in the fireplace. "Hagrid," she said, "I think something's about to boil over."

Hagrid hurried over to where his pot hung in the flames. He stoked up the fire, causing the three first years to cringe a little. They could feel themselves flushing, even if Hagrid wasn't willing to admit how warm it was.

Inside the pot, an egg wiggled. Hermione could feel the pieces of the puzzle fall into place. Warm environment. Egg. And what did Hagrid want more than anything?

"That had better not be what I think it is," she whispered as Hagrid took the shaking egg and set it on the table.

The egg hatched. It broke apart, piece by piece and out climbed the slimiest creature Hermione had seen emerge from an egg. And she had thought that potions class had some slimy creatures.

"Hagrid, is that a dragon?" Harry asked.

"That's not just a dragon," Ron said. "That's a Norwegian Ridgeback."

Both Harry and Hermione stared at him incredulously. They could hardly believe that the same boy, the one who refused to do his homework, would know what kind of dragon was sitting in front of them. They weren't even allowed to take care of magical creatures yet.

"My brother Charlie works studying dragons in Romania," he said defensively.

"Right," Harry and Hermione chorused.

Hermione felt a little silly for managing to forget that Ron had siblings who were older than Percy. But, being an only child, it sometimes felt difficult to remember that people were often much older than her. And at the same time not old enough to be her parents age.

"Oh, look," Hagrid cooed at the dragon. "He knows who his Mummy is. Come here Norbert."

"Norbert?" all three of the first years asked.

"Well, he's got to have a name," Hagrid said.

"And you're sure that's a he?" Hermione asked.

"Call it mother's intuition," Hagrid said.

Harry and Ron shared a look. Hermione just shook her head. Whatever Hagrid was thinking it wasn't great.

"Hagrid," Hermione cried, "you live in a wooden house!"

Later, when she was writing to Viktor, she came to the conclusion that it might be possible that everyone at Hogwarts was insane. Maybe Beauxbatons was a better option. She'd at least consider it.

* * *

A/N: So, for those of you who follow some of my other stories, I had the worst migraine in the history of migraines. (Not exactly. But it felt like it. I could hardly see.) But I'm on some super strong meds. And super behind where I want to be. So we'll see where this month takes us. But I do have a full time job. And a boyfriend. Strange how much time those things take.


	12. Chapter 12

**Dear Viktor,**

Hermione frowned over her piece of parchment. And nearly crossed out the two words she had written. She hadn't even gotten past the greeting and she wanted to scrap everything she had.

 **I guess you could say that I have the two most daft friends in the entire school. Malfoy has Crabbe and Goyle, but everyone knows their more cronies than friends. Not sure which is better.**

 **And not only that, but Harry's been friendly with the gamekeeper Rubius Hagrid since before he came to school. I'm not sure Hagrid's in his right mind. He won a dragon egg off a peddler in a pub right around Christmas.**

 **I'm not even sure how someone managed to get their hands on a dragon egg. It seems insanely dangerous. And even if it wasn't that dangerous, the dragons and eggs are guarded very well by the keepers on reserves. So says Ron.**

 **His brother's one of the newer keepers on the reserve in Romania so Ron thinks he knows everything about dragons.**

Hermione paused and rolled her eyes. She knew that Ron was just trying to be as cool as he thought his older brothers were. She thought it was ridiculous. The twins weren't trying to be Charlie or Bill. And there was no way that Ron could be any of them. And then there was Percy, who the twins and Ron thought was a bit of a prat.

Hermione didn't think he was. She figured that in terms of rules and expectations, he was somewhat similar to herself. And he at least understood the value of personal space.

 **I don't know if you have any suggestions. This is probably not a situation that you've ever been in before. But if you have any idea of what to do, this would probably the best situation to help. You've been wonderful in all the help you've given so far. But I am at a loss.**

She signed the letter and sealed it with a spell she'd found in a book over Christmas. Viktor had helped her practice. She was pretty sure that none of the other first years were going to get into her mail in the first place. And no one else took much interest in her.

* * *

Viktor read over the letter Hermione had sent him. He wasn't sure exactly how to respond. Trolls getting into the school was bad enough. He'd been nearly mad enough to storm Hogwarts and try and get the idiot headmaster removed from his office.

Thankfully, he'd had enough sense to know that a twelve-year old's letter wasn't enough proof. But he was slowly collecting evidence. Any rumors were written down and documented. He might not be able to do much at that moment, but he would be ready for when he could.

 **Hermione,**

 **You need to convince this Hagrid to get rid of that dragon. It might be small now, but they grow quickly. In a few months he won't be able to conceal it anymore and the ministry will take both it and him.**

If it were Viktor there, he would have let the oaf get taken by the ministry. There were rules for a reason. And this Hagrid had obviously never been a dragon keeper. If he had he wouldn't be so anxious to have one for himself.

But he had no clue what Hermione felt for the man. And Viktor wasn't about to suggest that she let someone get arrested if she liked them. That would come back to bite him later. He was sure of it.

 **I don't know what is going on there, but I'm not a fan. If you would like to come to Durmstrang, I would be more than happy to arrange a tour. Not sure you would like our headmaster more than yours. He can be irritating.**

It was as much as he felt he could say on the subject. The truth was that he hated his headmaster himself and did as much as he could to stay out of his path. But he was better at keeping his students safe than Dumbledore clearly was.

Viktor just prayed that his friend was going to be safe for the rest of the school year. He knew he wouldn't handle it well if anything happened to her. And his nerves were already under tremendous strain.

* * *

A/N: so I seem to have gotten my stories a little out of order. Oh well. I'm updating. If you're reading 1603 then you've probably already read the news. But for those of you who haven't, I'll put it here too. I'm engaged. And planning a wedding for June. So it's a bit busy right now. I'm still writing. I'm just not going to be as regular about posting. Not that I have been recently. Sorry about that.


	13. Chapter 13

Ron had gotten himself bitten by Norbert. Hermione sort of thought he deserved it. What had he been thinking to try playing with a baby dragon? Even Hagrid wore gloves most of the time, even if they were more oven mitts for heat protection than anything else.

But she found herself taking his homework to the hospital wing, even if she didn't like it. She couldn't stand the thought of him failing all his classes. Even if that would put him in a year where she didn't have to deal with him.

But then he'd be in the same grade as his younger sister. And while Ron was insufferable at times, he probably didn't deserve that. Not to mention the fact that it would probably make him more insufferable.

"Do you think Ron will have any sweets?" Harry asked her on their way up.

Hermione shook her head. "I think we're the only people who come to visit him. Other than his brothers. But I don't think he likes it when Fred and George visit him."

"Or Percy," Harry added. "He probably brings him more homework than you do."

Hermione gave a pointed look at the books she was carrying. "I think not."

"We both know that half of those are yours."

Hermione felt a flush rising to her cheeks. She thanked her lucky stars that she didn't show a blush as bad as Ron. He turned bright red. But Harry was right. Half of the books she had were hers.

"And," she asked as casually as she could manage.

"Nothing," Harry muttered. He didn't really feel like being on the wrong side of Hermione. Especially when she was usually right.

They walked in silence the rest of the way. Each of them was trying to think of something to say. Either to Ron or to each other.

"Hey guys," Ron said weakly. He still looked a little green.

"How are you feeling?" Harry asked.

"Better."

The sad thing was that he was looking better. The green around his right side, where his arm and hand were securely bandaged and looking fresh, was starting to recede. But he still looked terribly sick.

"You sure?" Hermione asked. "Maybe I should stay and keep helping you with the writing."

Ron shook his head. "Don't worry about it. I've gotten much better at writing with my left hand."

Hermione was dubious about that. She thought his normal handwriting was awful. And with his left hand it looked rather like someone from nursery. But she couldn't force him. And if he wanted to do his own homework it would be better for him in the long run.

"Alright," she said. "Any news about how to care for a dragon without winding up in the hospital wing? I don't think Madame Pomfrey is going to appreciate it if we keep getting "dog" bites."

"He says we should send him to Romania," Ron mumbled.

"But how are we supposed to get him out of Hogwarts without Hagrid being arrested?" Harry asked.

Ron shrugged and then winced. His arm was looking better, but movement clearly still bothered him.

"We could report a dragon sighting in the forbidden forest," Harry said.

Hermione paused. It wasn't a horrible idea. And if they left Norbert in the forest someone was bound to notice. But there would probably be an investigation. And she said as much.

Harry frowned. "Do you have any ideas?"

Hermione shook her head. She knew that Viktor was not thrilled with the idea of her being anywhere near a dragon. Even a baby one. And to be frank, she wasn't particularly thrilled with the idea either. But she couldn't say that.

"Charlie said he could fly some of his friends in. We just have to get him up to the roof by midnight on Saturday," Ron said.

Hermione groaned internally. She hated staying up late. She liked sleep. If Charlie could have been there at six in the morning she would have been so much happier. Apparently that wasn't an option.

"We'll figure it out," Harry said. "We'll let you know tomorrow."

"The sooner the better. I need to let Charlie know."

Later that evening Hermione sat down to write a letter.

 _Dear Viktor,_

 _So Ron said that his older brother Charlie can take Norbert to the Romanian reserve if we can meet him with dragon in tow on the roof of the astronomy tower. At midnight. On a Saturday._

 _As you can probably tell, I'm not thrilled with the idea. But I don't have a better idea. Harry will be devastated if Hagrid gets arrested. And I'm not sure that we wouldn't face things escaping the forest if he was gone._

 _Now we just have to figure out a way to get a dragon to the top of the astronomy tower without getting caught. No ideas._

 _Your friend,_

 _Hermione_

* * *

 _A/N:_ I know. Two updates in one day? Crazy. But apparently possible. Sorry this chapter's a little shorter. But it's here. Hope you guys like it.


	14. Chapter 14

Hermione was cursing her sense as she crept along the corridor holding on to Norbert's cage with both hands. She was wearing dragon hide gloves because the last thing she needed was to wind up in the hospital wing with Ron. She'd most likely smack him if that happened.

She was also wishing that he was well enough to take the cage up with Harry instead. Unfortunately for her, he wasn't. So, Hermione was stuck carrying a dragon up to the top of the astronomy tower at midnight.

There was a good chance that no one was going to be up there. Even N.E.W.T students got Saturday nights off. But Hermione couldn't shake the feeling that they were going to get caught. Even with Harry's invisibility cloak.

"Would you stop that?" Harry hissed.

"Stop what?" Hermione whispered back.

"The anxious humming," Harry said. "You're gonna get us caught."

 **As if the talking isn't,** Hermione thought. Nevertheless, she stopped and focused on her breathing and keeping the cage from rattling.

They were able to hand Norbert off to Charlie and his team without too much trouble. They put him in a larger cage carried between four brooms. Harry and Hermione watched them fly away in awe. They made it look so easy.

They may have lingered a little too long. They may have just been tired. It was very late. And neither of them was the best at listening for noise when they were tired. Mostly they were just excited to have Norbert gone.

"Just where do you think you're going?" a stern Scottish voice called.

Both Harry and Hermione froze and looked at each other. They had forgotten to put the cloak back on. Hermione silent fumed. How could she have been so silly?

"Heading back to our dorms, professor," Harry said. He stumbled a little over the words. But anyone would have.

McGonagall looked over them dubiously. "And what might you have been doing in the astronomy tower at this time of night?"

"It's really quite a sight," Harry said. "And you don't need to ask Hermione about my astronomy grades. I'm trying to do better. Hermione's the only one who doesn't seem to need help."

Hermione was amazed. He hadn't said anything that wasn't true. He did need to work on his astronomy. And most everyone was struggling. Even the purebloods. Hermione was sorely tempted to ask her parents for a proper telescope. The school ones weren't nearly as powerful as even basic new muggle ones.

"Where might your books be?" McGonagall asked.

"Back at the dorm," Hermione said. "We forgot them."

"And yet, you have dragonhide gloves?" There was a calculating note in the professor's voice.

"It gets cold?" Harry said slowly.

"My office. Now."

They followed meekly, and took the detention that was given. Apparently, Malfoy had ratted them out. But because he was out of bed after curfew as well, he still wound up with detention. He'd tried to fight that. It hadn't gone so well.

"That could have gone better," Hermione said.

"It could have also gone much worse," Harry said. "Can you imagine what would have happened if Malfoy had gone to Snape?"

They both shuddered at the mere thought. Malfoy would have gotten off scot free. And they would have wound up with at least a week's worth of detention. Not something that Harry could afford.

"I bet he won't go to anyone else," Hermione said.

"Not anymore," Harry agreed.


	15. Chapter 15

Hermione wasn't thrilled at the idea of having detention. And was incredibly less thrilled about having it with Draco Malfoy. And she'd said as much in her previous letter to Viktor. She hadn't said anything about detention in her letter to her parents.

His letter was in her hands. And as usual it was in English that was written with a hand that was worse than Ron's. However, since English wasn't his first language, and the Roman alphabet wasn't his first either, she cut him far more slack.

The tone of his words was about as tense as it could be. Not at her. But he could definitely hold some animosity towards her friends. Which made sense as Viktor was the protective type of person. And he didn't like it when other people got his friends into trouble.

"What do you have there?" Ron asked. "You just sent an owl off to your parents yesterday. I don't think they would have responded that fast."

"It might surprise you Ronald, but I have other people I like to speak to," Hermione said as calmly as she could.

"Like who?" Ron asked.

"Like my grandparents," Hermione said.

Ron frowned but didn't push the issue further. He sometimes was able to sense tension when it came to Hermione. And she was relaxing a little more when it came to him, but he still irked her some.

Eventually she got a letter with instructions to meet Flilch in the entrance hall for detention. The time seemed rather late, but she decided that she would go along with it.

She wasn't thrilled when they got there and Filch was getting ready to lead them outside. Her mind sped through a thousand different punishments.

"You there Hagrid," Filch called.

"You're late," Hagrid said.

Hermione felt herself shiver and was glad that it was dark. And that she could blame it on the cool air. She'd worn her astronomy cloak, but was still feeling a bit of a chill.

"Wouldn't be if it wasn't for this lot of troublemakers."

"We wouldn't be in trouble if it weren't for Hagrid," Hermione muttered under her breath. "Him and his stupid wooden house."

"It'll be over before you know it," Harry reassured her.

Hermione glared at him. "And how exactly would you know?" she hissed. "You haven't gotten into trouble before this either."

"Not here," Harry admitted. "But detention never lasts as long as you think it might."

Hermione knew he was right. But they hadn't ever had detention at night. In the middle of the forbidden forest.

They listened as Hagrid explained what was going on and led them through the forest. Hermione found that as long as she ignored Harry and Draco she didn't mind the task so much. Yes, the forest was creepy. But it was hard to be scared of whatever might be lurking about with a huge man who had thrashed several temper tantrums out of a dragon.

"What's that?" Harry asked.

A few feet away was a small clearing off the path. In it was a small white lump. It seemed to be heaving a breath, but then stopped.

A roar sounded in Hermione's ears and she ducked in pain and cold.

A scream sounded high and piercing. It was deafening. And when it stopped, Hermione thought that she had gone deaf.

"What was that?" she asked.

"No idea," Hagrid said. "Never seen som'in like that."

"I hope I never see something like that ever again," Malfoy muttered.

Hermione had to agree with Malfoy, as much as she didn't like it. And when she wrote to Viktor she found that she had to mention it. She hadn't mentioned Malfoy before. But she found that she couldn't leave him out.

She signed and sent the letter out early in the morning before breakfast the next day. Since it was Saturday, most of the rest of the students took the chance to sleep in. Ron certainly did. Hermione found that even with the late night, she couldn't sleep in. Though she had tried.

But whatever it was that was in the forest, was haunting her dreams. She felt jittery. And knowing what she knew about Nicholas Flamel wasn't helping any. She thought she had a pretty good idea about what was hidden in the third-floor corridor.

"Rough night?" Harry asked as he sat down at the table.

"The worst," Hermione groaned. It actually hadn't been the worst sleep she'd ever gotten. Scared sleep was somehow easier to deal with than trying to sleep while excited.

"NIghtmares get you too?"

Hermione nodded. "Not that I needed any fuel for nightmares. I already had one about Norbert breathing fire on my exams."

Harry groaned. "I did not need that image in my head. I imagine that you'd be fine if you had less time for exams. But I'd certainly fail."

Hermione snorted. "I doubt that. Professor McGonagall at least likes you. I think so does Professor Flitwick."

"But Snape hates me," Harry moaned.

"I don't think they'd let him teach if he hated you. But it wouldn't hurt if you would stop pairing up with Ron and focused on the work."

"You know that would be no fun. And you're usually making things with Fey. I'm not going to pair up with Neville," Harry said.

"There are other people you could work with," Hermione attempted to remind him. "Parvati. Dean. I wouldn't recommend Seamus though."

Seamus had an unfortunate ability to cause almost every potion to explode. And most other things too. Hermione was looking into it, but didn't have a theory at that point.

"I wasn't planning on it. And Dean and Seamus seem to have a system worked out. I just wish I could focus. But I can't stop watching Snape like he's up to something." Harry was practically grinding his teeth. He took a deep breath and a piece of toast.

Hermione made herself a bacon sandwich and chewed as she tried to distract herself. She figured that she would probably wind up going to the library. If only to find something complex enough that it would distract her for a couple of days.

* * *

A/N: Sorry for not posting sooner. I've been not feeling grand. I did have an ultrasound on my gallbladder. Glad to know that it's fine. It means no surgery on that. But it's been awful. Hopefully I'll be inspired enough to create a new chapter soon.


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